


What Is and What Will Never Be

by jewelianna88, madame_d



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/pseuds/jewelianna88, https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_d/pseuds/madame_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crackfic!  After hours shopping leads to a funky game of dress up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is and What Will Never Be

JC really loved Abercrombie models. He'd met one, once, at the Playboy mansion. The guy had been shorter than he'd expected from his picture, but had the most piercing blue eyes JC had ever seen. They'd surreptitiously avoided the Playmates that evening, finding a secluded corner of the garden to visit until one of the security guards had found them-- playing. The guy in this picture looked a little like the one he'd fooled around with that night.

Abruptly, Joey jerked his arm, pulling him away from the window with the gorgeous black and white men, down to the mall entrance of Nordstrom’s. The manager stood there, looking helplessly blasé about opening his story to a group of pop stars who wanted to do a little bit of shopping without being harassed by swarms of annoyingly adoring fans. There were definite benefits to having a personal shopper or designers who came to you, but there were times when you wanted to choose from thirty shirts instead of five, to try on seventeen different styles washes of blue jeans to find the perfect ones.

Times like those were for Nordstrom’s after hours.

Bidding a fond adieu to the boy in the poster, JC fell into step behind Joey, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, flip-flops slapping noisily on the linoleum floor. Lance was already at the door, shaking the hands of the manager and promising that they wouldn't be more than two hours. The only noise in the place was the whir of the escalator, which was decidedly unnecessary and would only prompt Chris and Justin to run up the wrong side when it came time to ascend to higher floors.

"Shoes first," Justin declared, heading straight for a rack of Timberland boots. JC groaned inwardly- Justin would buy them, probably six pairs, wear them once, declare them "fucking heavy and uncomfortable," and go back to sneakers. It was a pattern he'd seen carried out countless times over the years.

"Why does he even bother?" Lance asked, brushing past. His arms rubbed up against JC's back as they squeezed between the displays of shoes. JC laughed lightly and picked up a pair of shiny black boots. He didn't have any shoes with buckles, he thought, bending the sole. When it didn't flex, he set it down and wiggled his toes happily in his flip-flops.

"I need jeans," he declared, watching Justin clomp around the store in heavy tan boots. "Y'all can meet me upstairs if you want."

"Wait up," Lance called, following behind him. "I'm coming with you."

Upstairs, it was even quieter, the noise of their friends reduced to muted murmurs. JC headed straight for his old friend, Calvin Klein, and the favorite faded style he'd worn forever. He needed some Levi's too, hunting through the stack for his size.

"What's up with this?" he said, turning to find Lance. "They don't have anything in my size?"

Lance just shrugged. "I dunno, man. Just get the closest one or something." He pulled out a pair of jeans and held them up to his legs. The cuffs dangled on the floor. "Fuck," he said, shoving them back in the pile.

JC smiled to himself. Poor Lance and his little legs. He grabbed a few pairs in the closest size to what he usually wore, still two sizes bigger. Maybe they tagged things differently when they were sold retail, he thought. He knew some of his female friends complained that different stores missized their clothes to make it seem liked you wore a smaller size. Calvin could have jumped on that bandwagon, he supposed, only reversed it for guys.

"I'm gonna try these on," JC said, popping the first button on his jeans and stepping out of one sandal.

"JC!” Lance yelled, scandalized, from two tables away. "You can't just strip here."

"Why not?" he said, unzipping his fly. There was no one around.

"Because the store's loaded with security cameras, fucker." Lance pointed at the black bubbles hanging down from the ceiling. JC stared at them, and almost thought he could see someone zooming in on him. He dropped the pair of folded jeans in his hands to cover his crotch. Big Brother sucked.

Lance tugged on his arm, sending JC hopping to get his flip-flop back on. "Come on," Lance called, pulling him into a dressing room at the back of the department. Secure in a compartment opposite Lance, JC finished pulling off his jeans and trying on his selections.

The first ones were so big he could pull them up without even unbuttoning them. So were the second. With a sigh, he stripped them off, reaching for the pair of deep blue Levi's he'd pulled. Even those, his favorite brand ever, were too large. They were set to shoot the first single for their new album in a week, and he really needed new jeans. If he didn't have a new pair, wardrobe was going to find him some. JC was deathly afraid of wardrobe and their army of straight pins.

From across the aisle, Lance said, "Fuck." JC opened his compartment door and leaned against the partition frame.

"What?"

Lance's door opened. He was wearing a beautifully faded pair of CK's, but the denim gaped open at his hips, revealing a perfect triangle of white cotton stretched tightly across the impressive bulge at Lance's groin. JC allowed his gaze to linger appreciatively for a few moments before drawing his eyes up to Lance's frustrated expression.

"They won't close," he said, pulling the sides together unsuccessfully. "And the ones that do are way too baggy in the leg." He tugged again, a vain attempt at getting the fly to zip.

"Where are you guys?” Joey's voice called from out in the store. JC could hear his three friends' footsteps echoing through the racks of clothes.

"In the dressing room behind Calvin Klein," he yelled, loud enough that Lance covered his ears.

JC stepped back into his compartment and put his regular jeans back on. He was just exiting when Joey came, a bunch of faded denim dangling from his hand. He slipped by JC without a word, taking his place in the changing room. JC dropped his ill-fitting clothes on a table to be re-shelved and left with his hands empty.

Justin was carrying a massive bag with the Nordstrom’s' logo emblazoned on the side, while Chris was still purchase-less.

"Aren't you getting anything?” JC asked him. He shrugged. Chris hated shopping; a trait he said resulted from 'the lack of a fifteen year old girl living inside of me the way one seems to be inhabiting you fucks.' JC let it slide, usually, because he knew Chris hated shopping because he'd grown up never knowing what it was to shop for the sake of it rather than the utter necessity of parting with cash.

Joey came out with his new jeans in hand, followed by Lance, who dropped everything on top of JC's stuff to be returned to the floor.

"You're not getting any of them?” JC asked, and Lance shook his head. His lips were pursed in a grim line of worry, probably eating himself up about eating, JC thought. Lance had been told by too many people that his hips were too large. They weren't, not at all. In fact, JC had often fantasized about what it would be like to have sex with Lance, to have something to hold on to while he was plunging deep inside--

Whoops, there was something stirring in his pants and it was time to think about baseball before the guys noticed he was getting hard trying clothes on.

"Yeah, nothing fits me either. Too big," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as heavy to the others as it did in his head.

"You know," Chris said, "there is a ladies' department here. That would probably have smaller sizes. Or sizes for those with wider portions than most men."

Justin hooted in laughter, grabbing on to a mannequin to keep his balance. Lance snorted. JC just stood there looking alarmed. Chris wanted him to what now, with the what-what?

"No thanks, Chris." Lance idly flipped through a rack of T-shirt, pulling out a gray NAVY one. "I'm good."

"C?" Chris turned to him, expectantly.

JC frowned. He glanced at Joey, who shrugged.

"You know, this is why they do custom made jeans," Justin pointed out. "Like the one's you're wearing now?"

Now JC scowled. Justin was such a know-it-all sometimes. "The whole point of this trip was to find stuff that wasn't custom made, moron." He stole of glance of Lance's face, which was carefully blank. "It can't hurt to try," he conceded, letting go of the rack he'd been leaning on.

"Whoo! To the third floor!” Chris shouted, galloping ahead to the escalator with Justin close on his heels. Joey clapped a hand on JC's shoulder as they walked, Lance following two steps behind.

Of course, they couldn't just go try on jeans and leave. The store boasted one of the largest lingerie departments JC had ever seen and naturally, it would begin right at the top of the escalator.

Never able to pass up a good joke, Joey proclaimed a "Panty War!" chucking a pair of black satin panties at Lance, who peeled the garment off his shoulder. His lips rippled in disgust as he dropped it to the table.

"Why do people wear these things?” Joey asked, holding up a purple G-string. "How do you even know which way is up?"

Justin turned the scrap of elastic in Joey's hands, until understanding flashed across his face. JC smiled, thinking at what it said about their respective girlfriends - Justin's a popstar who probably owned an impressive collection of thongs, and Joey's hometown girl, who credited functionality more than appearance when it came to clothes.

Chris, meanwhile, had two green G-strings draped on his ears. "Don't they look fah-bu-lus?" he enunciated, posing this way and that until they were all laughing. "Onward to blue jeans!" he declared, marching through the store. Joey began trumpeting the Stars and Stripes Forever march in his wake, dropping a pair of hot pink bikinis on JC's head as he went by. Sighing, JC fell into step in their perverted panty parade.

The ladies section was strikingly similar to the men’s, if you could get past the flouncy dressing adorning all of the mannequins.

“Ooh, look at this one!” Chris said, fluffing the ruffled hem of a purple gauzy sundress. It was covered in tiny white flowers, the kind of thing Justin always tried to get Britney to wear and she never would.

“That would look good on you, JC.” Joey held the fabric up to JC’s shoulder, the pastel print pale against JC’s deep tan.

“Really?” He rubbed it between his fingers, the gauzy fabric almost see-through. It was a pretty color, and the tiny flowers were immensely detailed. Wait a minute.

“It’s a dress, fucker.” JC dropped the fabric in disgust, looking around for jeans. They were way in the back, stacked in perfect piles against the wall. He pulled some from the pile.

“What size?” he asked, staring at the stickers. 4, 6, 8-- how the hell did girls figure that out? Why couldn’t they just put them in inches?

He grabbed a few that looked to be the right width when he held them up.

“Dude, make sure you get the long ones.” Chris stole the pants in his hands, replacing them with ones marked “L”. He handed Lance a few pairs as well.

Justin narrowed his eyes. “Should I be concerned that you know so much about buying women’s clothing?”

Chris scowled at him, reaching up to smack the back of his head. “Four sisters, moron.” Joey laughed, pulling Justin into a headlock and rubbing his fuzzy head.

In the dressing room, JC dropped his pants and pulled on the new pair. They slid perfectly up his legs, straight legs leaving just enough room to be comfortable. He squatted down, testing the hint of stretch that the label boasted.

“Hey, these are kinda cool,” he yelled out, fastening the button at his waist. He went to zip the fly. Oh. Um. Tucking it back a bit, he got it closed, but damn, that was all kinds of uncomfortable.

“Um.” Lance’s low protest came from across the dressing room. JC opened the door to three expectant faces, and one twisted in pain.

“I just discovered why guys don’t wear girls’ jeans,” Lance moaned, easing the fly back down. “They’re just not cut for any kind of accommodation.”

“JC?” Chris asked, voice filtering through the particle board door. “Are you having any luck?” He sounded like every stereotypical saleswoman JC had ever had the unfortunate luck of dealing with.

"Uh… these fit but they don’t have room for my uh…"

Justin cracked up, grabbing his stomach as he fell clumsily to the floor. Joey didn’t say a word, just stood there with a bemused smile on his face. Chris was bouncing, trying to look anywhere but at Lance’s groin. Only JC would look at Lance, sending him a sympathetic gaze because really, his own dick was crying for release from the tight-tight prison JC has sentenced it to.

He slowly changed into his clothes, listening as the other guys harmonized on ‘Stand By Me’ in the dressing room entrance. He hummed along as he pulled up his own jeans, thanking them for not restricting blood flow to any important body parts as he scooted the button back into its hole.

“Well, this sucks,” Justin said when JC emerged with the ill-fitting pants in his hands. “We’ve got this place for another hour and forty-five minutes because you said you wanted to shop, and now you’re not shopping.”

“Well, there were some nice shirts downstairs,” JC started, but his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t really need shirts, just new blue jeans. He’d have to call the guy at Diesel tomorrow, sometime in the middle of their fifteen hours of satellite interviews. He cursed Calvin Klein, mentally vowing to never wear his underwear again. At least for the next year. Grudges were hard to maintain when it came to inferior undergarments.

“I know what we can do,” Joey said with an evil grin. JC gulped. The last time Joey had that look on his face, they’d all wound up upside down at Knots Berry Farm, and JC’s world had spun for days in a very non-orgasmic kind of way.

“What? What? What?” Chris bounced.

“Since it was JC’s being all boring and can't even find a pair of jeans he likes-“

“It's not my fault they're all freaky!”

“-- I say we find him a nice new outfit.” Joey smiled sweetly at JC.

JC didn't like that smile. “That is so not going to happen!” he cried. He hated the way the other guys’ eyes were lit up like Christmas morning and new toys. “C’mon, guys, I’m sure there’s an electronics store around here somewhere--“

“I dunno, C” Justin said. “If you’d just spend some of your fucking money and have a pair of pants made for you, we wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a fucking department store at midnight. I’m missed a Lakers game so we could take this little shopping trip. I’m thinking there’s some penance required here.”

“Yay! JC can be our pretty, pretty dolly!” Chris pinched his cheek jovially. JC squirmed out of his grasp, batting away the pinching fingers that Chris flaunted in front of his face.

“Get away from me. I’m not your fucking doll,” he cried.

“But you’re the pretty one,” Joey said, stepping behind JC so that his escape route was blocked. He gulped.

“Hey!” Justin pouted, drawing attention away from JC for a moment. “I thought I was the pretty one!”

“Well you were,” Joey said, “but since someone shaved your head, you don’t have those pretty curls anymore. JC’s is very pretty, now with the funky little highlights going on there.” He fingered JC’s hair, the way it fell around his face.

“C’mon, C, let us play,” Lance said. He stroked a hand down JC’s head, rubbing gently at the corded muscles in the back of JC’s neck. He was preying on the fact that JC was generally the most tolerant and generous with his idiot band mates. And also susceptible to bribery. “We’ll stop at Starbucks on the way back to the hotel.”

JC squinted at him suspiciously. “You never let me have coffee at night.”

“You let us play, and I’ll buy a latte.”

“The big one.”

“Promise.” Lance held up his hands in a Boy Scout salute. Finally, JC acquiesced with a deep sigh. In times like these, it was best to let his friends have their fun, then back away slowly when their attention was later diverted.

Suddenly, it was a whirlwind of shopping extravaganza, JC’s arms were full of dresses and skirts. He stood helplessly as his band mates morphed into scary fashion divas, pulling at fabrics to check cuts and hemlines while JC stood helpless amidst their chaos.

“This would look good,” Chris said, choosing a slinky black number. Joey pulled it out of his hands and held it up to JC with a critical eye.

“Nah, that one would make him look slutty.”

"How about this one, then?" Chris pointed at a frothy pale yellow and grin creation.

"That one would make him look fat," Joey commented, sparing a single glance in the dress' direction. ‘Don’t tell him that,” Lance whined. "You’ll give him a complex."

“I don’t have a complex!” JC complained. “I just have a fast metabolism.” Geez, he was going along with this little charade, you’d think that they’d at least be nice to him while he played along.

“And anyway,” Joey continued, “he needs colors. Something bright,” he said. The dress went back on the rack.

“You guys, just pick something,” Justin whined. He stood off to one side, leaning against a rack. “The longer you take, the more likely he is to bolt.” The other three stopped and stared at JC, who was shifting nervously from foot to foot, glancing around the room for an exit.

Damn. They were on to him.

“Here,” Justin said, looping a hanger around JC’s neck. It was a raspberry-pink halter dress with a plunging tear-drop cut in the front. The skirt of the dress had three tiers of ruffles, with cream and yellowish swirls on them. He stared down at where it draped over his chest. Dude.

"Now, go,” Chris demanded, spinning JC around and shoving him in the direction of the dressing room. He shuffled in, arms still burdened with the many dresses the guys had thrown at him. He took the one off of his neck and hooked it over the back of the door.

His friends were a group of sick fucks, and if he didn’t love them dearly and really want that cup of coffee on the way home, he’d totally have them all committed for making him do this. Then he’d take a nice long vacation and wear nothing for a week so that every time he looked down he’d see his dick and remember that he was a man.

But since that wasn’t really an option, he stripped to his underwear and pulled the dress Justin had given him over his head, shimmying it down over his chest where it pulled tightly. It draped limply around his hips, falling just below his crotch.

The image in the mirror was so ridiculous he had to laugh at himself. His hair chest showed through the scooped neck, and the cut of the sides plunged nearly down to the base of his rib cage, leaving his back completely exposed. Where it would have hugged a woman’s hips, it draped oddly. And his black bikini underwear showed right through the deep pink material.

He twisted and turned, tugging the dress into better shape, laughing at himself every time he caught his own eyes in the mirror. The underwear shadow just ruined the whole ridiculous illusion.

He didn’t want to shed them, and the other dresses that the guys had given him were all too - not him. Because things like that mattered at times like these, he told himself. If he had to dress like a girl it would be a hot girl, not his Great-Aunt Patty.

He rummaged through the other things the guys had thrown at him, a piece of pink silk on the floor catching his eye. A slow grin spread across his face.

The underwear he’d been wearing on his head. It must have fallen off while he was trying on jeans earlier. He picked it up, fingering the tiny brass loops on the side that held the pink elastic together. They probably wouldn’t show, and it was an extra large.

Before he could think too much about it, or the fact that he was probably going to steal the panties later on because there was no way he’d purchase them or put them back, he dropped his own underpants and pulled on the pink bikini pair. They were tight but had enough elastic to stretch around his -- yeah. They were OK.

“C, you gonna show us or what?” Justin’s voice was eager enough to make JC groan. He was only doing this out of love, he reminded himself, stepping out of the dressing room door.

The wall of laughter he walked into was expected, so JC stood and let his face flame while the others snorted and giggled at how ridiculous he looked. He tried to grin back at them, doing a cute little curtsey that almost had him falling over his own feet. No one would ever say he was a girl, or even a good drag queen, but that only made it that much more amusing.

“Come on, C, shake that ass, let’s get a good look here,” Joey said, pulling JC into his arms, leading him into a bump and grind dance. JC threw back his head and laughed, playing along, because this was familiar, dress or no. He rested his hands on Joey’s body and bent his knees, swinging his hips to Justin’s beat box rhythm.

Joey spun him away, right into Lance, who caught him with a hand on the hip and stilled. JC winked at him, watching as Lance’s eyebrows slid upward on his forehead, amusement dancing on his lips. His hands gripped JC’s hips tightly, a thumb stroking over the underwear line under the raspberry dress.

“You’re not going to dance for me?” Lance asked deeply, a strong thigh slipping between JC’s spread feet. He guided JC’s hips down and around, until they were moving in something much more sensual than Joey’s dance had been.

The shrill of a phone playing the Animaniacs theme broke Justin’s momentum, and Joey spoke briefly to the caller.

“We gotta pack it up guys, they’re waiting downstairs.”

“But I didn’t get a dance,” Chris complained.

“Next time, baby,” Justin appeased, leaning an arm on Chris’s shoulder.

“But I didn’t get a DANCE,” he said again, as if no one had heard him the first time.

JC stepped back into the dressing room, watching as Lance stilled, hands draped in loose fists at his side. He thought about the look in Lance’s eyes, the heat that was… something. Something worth exploring.

He carefully hung the dress back on its hanger, and gathered the other garments to be left at the front of the dressing room. Through a cracked door, he passed them to Lance silently. He fingered the elastic of the panties, feeling the tingling skin where Lance’s hand had skimmed the top of them. Deliberately, he left them on, pulling his own underwear over them, then the rest of his clothes.

The ride back to the hotel was almost silent, except for the brief argument with security about why they had to find an open Starbucks, despite the protests about the evils of coffee to people who really didn’t need caffeine. JC sipped happily through the white plastic lid, letting the warm beverage coat his throat. His body was humming, but it wasn’t caffeine.

At the hotel, he managed to sit in his own room for all of five minutes before restless energy had him out wandering the halls, strolling up and down the ugly floral carpet with his hands plunged deep in his pockets. His toes were cold from the blast of air conditioning, and he wished briefly that he’d put on some socks.

He stopped in front of Lance’s room, the last door on the hall. His hand knocked without any direct order, and Lance appeared, shirtless and shoeless.

“Hey,” he said, opening the door. They never needed invitation to come in or explanation for showing up on one another’s doorstep at all hours. “I’m about to get in the shower.”

“Go ahead,” JC said, waving Lance away. “I’ll wait.”

With a curt nod, Lance closed the door. JC sat down on the bed, scooting back after a moment to stick his feet under the covers and warm them.

They’d only been in town for two days, but the room had touches of Lance everywhere. His chapstick sat on the bedside table, along with an empty water bottle and protein bar wrapper. His jewelry was on top of the dresser, and his suitcase was open on a luggage rack by the window, shirts hanging over the back of a chair. It was so perfectly Lance, orderly but slightly disheveled.

On impulse, JC stripped. Worse case scenario, he’d claim he wanted a shower. Best case, he’d get lucky. He and Lance had been dancing around each other for weeks, ever since Lance got back from shooting his movie. It was time, he figured, that they do something about it. On a whim, he left the underwear on, remembering how Lance’s grip had tightened when he’d felt them.

Lance came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, still dripping wet, a towel around his waist, rubbing his wet hair with another. His view was obscured, and JC waited patiently for him to look up and notice. He didn’t lower the towel until he bumped into the bed, a soft curse escaping his lips. JC grinned.

The terry cloth slipped from his hands when he saw JC, sitting bare in his bed. A garbled sound escaped his throat, but he made no effort to translate. His brain was clearly on overload. Without a word, JC sat up, and very slowly reached for the other towel. Lance doesn't stop him.

JC untucked the towel and let it fall softly to the ground.

Having found his voice, Lance spoke. “So, we’re doing this now?”

“Unless you have objections.” JC reached, pulling Lance closer to plant a soft kiss on his stomach as the younger man violently shook his head, and then, down to him. When Lance’s hands touched JC’s shoulders, their damp heat burned his skin but his body didn’t jerk away. Instead he pressed forward, letting his own fingers comb Lance’s still-wet hair, framing his face as their lips moved together wetly.

It was everything, and it wasn’t enough, and JC’s mouth wandered lower to taste all of Lance. It should have been weird, sucking on the nipples he used to twist painfully when they were young. He bathed them now in apology, nipping as lightly as he could with his teeth until Lance groaned. When Lance’s hands went for the sheets between them, JC pulled back with a sigh. When Lance’s hands stilled, bedding half removed, JC forced his heavy eyelids open.

"JC, when have I ever behaved in a way that made it seem to y'all that I was a closeted heterosexual?"

“What?”

“You’re wearing women’s underwear.”

JC looked down, like he might have forgotten, then pouted. “It doesn’t turn you on?”

"I think what's underneath is very sexy. But the bikini? Not so much."

“But in the store,” JC said, his hands slowly roaming the planes of Lance’s back. “You got that look, like. When you touched them.”

Lance’s mouth slowly eased into a smile. “That wasn’t it. It was you.” He touched JC’s chest, dipped his hands down to his belly, raked across the tight muscles of his thighs. “You never show any skin,” he said, kissing JC’s frown until it melted away. “That dress showed. So much. So, you. Not the dress, but you.”

Lance bent over and pulled at the strap of the panties with his teeth. JC groaned. Lance used his hands to completely remove the offensive scrap of pink, and came back to lick, kiss, and nip at JC's skin. He licked behind JC's knees, and upwards, kissing the sharp jut of the hipbone before nibbling on it gently. By the time Lance’s lips reached JC's belly, JC had melted into a sensual puddle of goo that wanted to be fucked right that second.

JC still expected to live out his fantasy of holding Lance's generous hips as he plunged deep inside, but that would have to wait. JC wiggled his hips impatiently, and Lance bit his nipple in retaliation. JC grunted, rolled Lance onto his back, sliding on top of him in one smooth movement. Lance smiled up at him and stretched his arms, exposing the long length of his abdomen that was just begging to be kissed. JC indulged, making Lance moan breathlessly as he fumbled in the nightstand for lotion and a condom. Quickly Lance’s fingers were wet and searching, seeking between JC’s legs until they slid in tightly. JC hummed as Lance stretched him, urging him on with begging gasps.

When Lance finally ripped the condom packet, JC grabbed at it with eager fingers, sheathing Lance’s cock and sliding it home. He rode Lance until they both could barely breathe. The orgasm took him by surprise, racking his body with shudders as Lance tensed and came below him. They cleaned up haphazardly, still regaining breath, and collapsed. Lance’s skin was tantalizingly warm below JC’s arm where it fell across Lance’s chest.

After a short nap, JC woke Lance up with a blowjob, sliding slick fingers inside to tease. At three fingers, Lance exploded into JC's mouth. Then, JC flipped Lance over and lived out his fantasy.

In the morning, after they'd had breakfast, JC asked Justin to call their wardrobe lady so he and Lance could order custom-made jeans. Pins were a lot more bearable when there was someone around to kiss the wounds better.

END


End file.
